


small hands

by vonseal



Series: magic users [5]
Category: ASTRO (Band)
Genre: Jinwoo's POV, M/M, Romance, Violence, basically just jinwoo during the witchcraft series, it's nothing special just a quick drabble, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-16 02:35:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11244564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vonseal/pseuds/vonseal
Summary: Myungjun’s small hands seemed so large today, as he carried with him the weight of Jinwoo’s return.





	small hands

**Author's Note:**

> just a quick drabble while i'm waiting to get home to my PC to write an actual chapter of something or other lol

Myungjun’s hands were small.  
  
Jinwoo noticed it the first day they met, when Myungjun rested his hands right above the potted, dead cowslip. A blue glow had surrounded his fingers as he worked, as he talked, as he flirted, _god_ , as he flirted. The flirting, really, flustered Jinwoo enough that he was actually unable to think too much about those small hands again. Until, at least, the next time he came by with his dead mint and Myungjun just blurted out his suspicions the moment Jinwoo stepped into the back room.  
  
“So, you’re a witch?”  
  
Jinwoo had nearly dropped his plant; Myungjun was quick, thankfully, and he caught it rather easily.   
  
From that moment on, Jinwoo knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Myungjun was going to be involved in his life for quite some time. After Jinwoo performed some spells, Myungjun seemed far more at ease with having a witch come by his place every so often. Jinwoo became far more at ease with having someone actually know of his magical status, with having someone actually care for him in the way Myungjun did.  
  
He just couldn’t get used to how well Myungjun trusted him, though.  
  
Myungjun had said he trusted Jinwoo. He was ill, exhausted from using up far too much of his powers at once, and Jinwoo had offered to make a potion for him. Myungjun readily agreed after a bit of light teasing, and he said that he trusted Jinwoo.  
  
Jinwoo had never felt trust before. Jinwoo had only felt disdain and fear and distance. His mother had lied to him, had abandoned him with her sister, and his cousins had tormented him as often as they were able. Trust was a new word. Trust was a new feeling.  
  
And as he made the potion, as he ran his fingers through Myungjun’s hair and held up his chest and convinced him that a witch’s hex was nothing to be concerned about, he realized that he had actually been unable to trust someone himself for the longest of times. He had always been fearful of people learning his secret, but there was Myungjun, drinking a hexed potion with only slight coaxing, and falling into Jinwoo’s arms afterward.  
  
(And, oh god, Jinwoo knew for certain that Myungjun’s ailments had been healed and that he was exhausted no longer, but it felt so warm and so nice to have a necromancer lean against him, and so Jinwoo allowed it to carry on for quite some time.)  
  
Jinwoo became comfortable with the whole concept of Myungjun. He became comfortable with someone knowing and understanding his position in the world. He became comfortable with the bright grin and the cute greetings and the ridiculous comments, and Jinwoo relished in the fact that Myungjun really seemed to be comfortable with him, too. He couldn’t sleep at night, kept awake with the very idea of Myungjun. He would toss and turn in his bed and he would have to hide his smile and giggles in his pillow as Myungjun appeared at the forefront of his mind.  
  
But Myungjun was a necromancer.  
  
Jinwoo knew that, and Jinwoo knew that necromancers were given spots in society. Not very good spots, but at least they weren’t murdered as witches were. However, as he listened to Myungjun’s tale of being locked in a janitorial closet, he couldn’t help the feeling of horror that washed over him.  
  
Myungjun’s small hands trembled as he told the story, and as he tried to let Jinwoo know that he was fine.  
  
He tried to convince himself. His words were small, too, filled with doubt and hesitation, and Jinwoo watched cautiously as Myungjun relived the experience through his words.  
  
Jinwoo was reminded of his own childhood. He was reminded of being locked in his aunt’s attic. His cousins had told him that ghosts lived up there, angry ghosts who supposedly hated witches.  
  
(“They hate you like your mom hates you!” one of them jeered, and he still felt a sharp pain in his heart.)  
  
He banged on the attic door and pleaded and begged and none of them came. He could hear them laughing as his cheeks grew wet with his tears, and it was only a few hours later that they let him out, content instead with letting him watch as they burned his favorite stuffed animal.  
  
Suffice to say, Jinwoo knew what it was like. So it didn’t come as too much of a surprise when Myungjun finally did break down in tears.   
  
Jinwoo hardly ever comforted people. He didn’t even know what being comforted felt like, and so he did what he thought would work - he kissed Myungjun’s face, in various places, just in an attempt to quiet the necromancer.  
  
At first it didn’t appear as if it would work at all. Myungjun seemed like the sort of guy to let all of his emotions bubble up inside of him for weeks and weeks until it had to explode. Jinwoo was able to control his better; he cried more often, as he later learned in their continuing relationship, and took a few minutes out of his days to just breathe.   
  
(He started to teach Myungjun - Myungjun decided that quiet meditation was boring, though, and so it became too much of a challenge to make him sit still. They stopped after three days.)  
  
However, after a few minutes of light kisses to his head and simple words of assurance that he was alright, Myungjun calmed down. They stayed in each others arms for some time, though. It was an embrace of two outcasts, two of the world’s most hated creatures, and even if Myungjun disliked being a necromancer, Jinwoo decided that he wouldn’t have Myungjun any other way.  
  
Myungjun was the first to pull away. He sniffed and rubbed his nose and quietly apologized. Jinwoo apologized all the more as he helped the necromancer clean his face, knowing that he had crossed over certain boundaries by planting kisses all over Myungjun without having first requested it. But Myungjun waved him off with a nervous laugh and an awkward admission of, “I would have stopped you if I didn’t enjoy it.”  
  
As he scrubbed the tears off of his own cheeks, Jinwoo stared - Myungjun’s hands were too small, and he was reminded of the older boy’s cheerful disposition and gentle nature, and he could understand hating a witch, but he could not understand hating a necromancer.  
  
He didn’t get it.  
  
It bothered him all night and through the next day. As he prepped his dead henbane for Myungjun to fix, he actually reminded himself that magic users were human. He had been brought up his entire life with the knowledge that he was less of a person than his normal neighbors and family members were, and he had accepted that fact. He had accepted that he and Myungjun were the outcasts and the despicable creatures and the ones who were better off dead. But after Myungjun’s breakdown, Jinwoo thought differently. _He_ wasn’t any better than dirt, heavens no - he had come to terms with how lowly he was. But Myungjun? Myungjun was the stars. Myungjun was the moon. Myungjun was the sun. And the sun was the greatest light in all the world. Without Myungjun, everything would be darker and grimmer, and Jinwoo didn’t want to live on Earth if Myungjun wasn’t there.  
  
He accepted that feeling rather readily, too. He could totally live with Myungjun being his answer to everything he needed, and he decided that he would waste no more time just flirting around and groping Myungjun’s butt on one occasion.  
  
(If he told Myungjun of his love, perhaps he could grope Myungjun’s butt on any occasion he wanted to.)  
  
As he headed down to the bakery the very next day, he stopped to help a little girl. Her ice cream had dropped from its cone, and her downtrodden expression was enough to break Jinwoo’s heart. He was always too soft, even when he had been beaten and abused, and so he couldn’t help but do a little magic in order to hand her a brand new cone. Her eyes lit up as she greedily snatched it from his hands, and with a few stammered words of gratitude, she was off again, licking happily at her treat.  
  
Jinwoo felt pleased with himself. His powers weren’t good for much, save for potions, but it was nice to know that he could bring that sort of happiness to someone’s life, even if it would be so short-lived.  
  
His own pride was short-lived, too. As he took various turns into the alleyway that would lead him quietly to the bakery, he felt he was being followed. He thought nothing of it at first, figuring it was just some men who happened to be taking the same route as him, but as they neared closer, he realized he wouldn’t get off so easily.  
  
One of the men grabbed him and slammed him up against a nearby brick wall. Jinwoo blinked in alarm before noticing the knife the other one held.  
  
“I-I-I don’t want trouble,” he stammered out.  
  
“If you didn’t want trouble, why are you doing spells in the middle of the street?” the boy who held him snapped. “You filthy witch.”  
  
The words were like a curse, and when they were said, Jinwoo grew panicked. He pulled against the boy’s grip, but without any warning, the knife came down into his chest. Jinwoo would have screamed if they hadn’t grabbed his jaw and clamped it shut.  
  
His flower fell. The pot broke on the ground. Oddly enough, he thought of Myungjun. Myungjun explained once that it was easier to work his powers on plants if they were in a pot that wasn’t cracked.  
  
The memory calmed him slightly. He put a hand to his bleeding chest and tried to steady his breathing. “I won’t - I won’t do it again-”  
  
There was another stab to his other side. Jinwoo cried out. He couldn’t even fall to the ground. They had him held too tightly, and his blood smeared against the wall he was leaned against.  
  
“Just go ahead and kill him,” one boy hissed. “The longer we stand here, the more chance he has to kill us.”  
  
“P-Please-” Jinwoo begged, but there was another stab, and then another. Jinwoo counted five more in total before he was finally allowed to fall. Blood was pooling around him and he stared up at the sky in fear. He begged God not to let him die like that, to somehow heal his wounds, but maybe God was punishing him for being born a witch. Instead of a peaceful recovery, the boys kicked his face, jeering at him and reminding him dreadfully so of his cousins. He tried to shield himself but it did no good.  
  
They finally left, congratulating each other on having put down a dangerous witch.  
  
Jinwoo was on his chest, facedown in the crimson liquid that soaked the pavement. Was he dangerous? He felt like he was. Other people were scared of him. Maybe, then, it was better if he was dead. No one would have to live in fear.  
  
He wondered if Myungjun would ever miss him. He hoped not. He wanted Myungjun to forget him and live a long and happy life.  
  
But as if his thoughts called on the person, Myungjun appeared. It was interesting, really, to be woken up from a state of unconsciousness, to believe he was actually about to die, and come face to face with the one person he loved and trusted and cared for most in the entire world.  
  
Myungjun’s tears fell on his face, and Jinwoo called out his name. “Myungjun?”  
  
He tasted blood, and he felt fear overtake him again. After accepting his inevitable death, it now scared him to know that he would die with Myungjun hovering above him, sobbing and crying and holding him tightly.  
  
He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to worry Myungjun.  
  
Myungjun’s small hands seemed so large today, as he carried with him the weight of Jinwoo’s return.  
  
He had never brought a human back from the dead. He had told as much to Jinwoo before at one point, back when they were casually flirting with each other. It was more of a personal reason, but also because his stamina wasn’t good enough. So when he promised that Jinwoo wouldn’t be asleep for long, Jinwoo wasn’t sure whether or not to believe him.  
  
But Myungjun was more capable and determined than he had originally seemed. He must have worked tirelessly, and when Jinwoo was finally able to open his eyes again, it was night and Myungjun collapsed into his chest.  
  
Jinwoo cried. He sobbed violently as he wrapped his arms around the tired necromancer, thanking him over and over for risking everything just to bring him back from the dead. Myungjun hummed out quiet responses, his hands gripping onto Jinwoo’s bloodied shirt as if Death would come again to take Jinwoo away. He promised this time not to let Jinwoo die again, though; and if he could keep Jinwoo from dying once, surely he would do it again. Jinwoo trusted him.   
  
Jinwoo loved him.  
  
His love for Myungjun hurt him at times, imagining the older boy’s dreadful past and his possibly dreadful future. It scared him to know that if Myungjun died, there would be no necromancers to bring him back. Jinwoo longed to be by Myungjun’s side at all times, day or night. When he was unable to be there, he would issue out potions and herbs to offer some sort of magical protection.  
  
“It isn’t strong,” he told Myungjun one night after finishing placing a hex on his newest batch. Myungjun lay in their bed, watching curiously from propped-up pillows as Jinwoo poured out accurate measurements of the purple liquid. “But it’s going to at least calm down anyone who might try to come after you. If they get in a general vicinity, they’ll be more at peace, even if they know you’re a necromancer, and hopefully the peace will stop them-”  
  
“You’re so hot when you talk about all this magic stuff that I know nothing about.”  
  
He was used to Myungjun’s less-than-helpful interruptions, and so Jinwoo continued as if Myungjun hadn’t just been trying to flirt with him. “-from trying to attack you or tell anyone else about you or whatnot.”  
  
“Mm.” Myungjun didn’t seem interested. He simply patted the spot beside him. “Why don’t _you_ attack _me_ , Jinwoo?”  
  
Jinwoo sighed loudly, making certain that his boyfriend heard his displeasure. “Whenever you try to be sexy, you’re not.” He finished tightening the tops on the bottles he had poured and he set them aside. He would put them in Myungjun’s lunchbox before heading off to his own job.  
  
“Whenever you _aren’t_ trying to be sexy, you are,” Myungjun retorted. “You got this sexy scientist vibe going on right now. I like it. You look like a chemist.”  
  
“Sure. Let’s go with a chemist.” Jinwoo took his glasses off and set them aside before standing from the small desk in their bedroom. “Why aren’t you asleep yet? You have to open the bakery tomorrow, since Minhyuk is on vacation.”  
  
Myungjun snorted. “Like I was going to go in anyway.” But when Jinwoo raised an eyebrow at him, he whined, “I’m kidding. You need to loosen up some. Sexy chemists are supposed to be suave and cool, and not all motherly.”  
  
“I’m not a chem-”  
  
“Chemists are also supposed to do it on the table.” Myungjun winked, then whispered, “Periodically.”  
  
“So not tonight, then.” Jinwoo worked on unbuttoning his shirt, and he smiled when he realized how quickly Myungjun began to pout.   
  
His boyfriend was the cutest, and he would fight anyone who said otherwise.  
  
“Minhyuk is gone, so we finally have a chance, and you’re just a boring butt-face.”  
  
“Real mature, Myungjun.” He threw on his sweatpants and hopped in bed beside Myungjun, instantly curling up into the covers and resting his head on his pillows. Myungjun maneuvered to lay down properly, his lower lip still jutted out.  
  
He was too cute, and Jinwoo honestly couldn’t just leave him like that, so he leaned forward and kissed the older boy. Myungjun’s eyes instantly lit up as he returned the kiss, causing Jinwoo to giggle. “I love you,” Jinwoo whispered.  
  
Myungjun grinned. “Right back at you.” He ran a hand down Jinwoo’s cheek, tracing the outline of his jaw, and his eyes were filled with such adoration and warmth that Jinwoo really couldn’t look away.  
  
“How did I get so lucky?” he whispered.  
  
“Might have to do with the fact that I’m a sucker for guys with great butts and even better faces.” Another kiss was shared between them, messier this time.  
  
(Myungjun was always lazy with his night kisses, relying on their love for each other to keep the passion strong - and, really, that was what made their relationship so perfect. Jinwoo could deal with bad kisses as long as Myungjun felt the same amount of love and care that Jinwoo felt for him.)  
  
The hand was on his chest now, and Jinwoo caught it gently. He examined Myungjun’s fingers before planting a few kisses on the soft skin of his palm. “You have such small hands,” he murmured.  
  
“And yet they’re still the perfect size for wrapping around-”  
  
Jinwoo scoffed, then flicked Myungjun’s forehead. His boyfriend gave a small whine, but fell silent. “I like your hands for purposes other than that,” he fussed. “I like how they fit into my hands, and how they cup my cheek when you’re trying to plaster kisses all over my face, and how they run through my hair when you’re reading a book.”  
  
Myungjun was still quiet. He didn’t look as flirty as he had before. Jinwoo wondered if he said something wrong, and he lightly squeezed Myungjun’s hand. “Are you okay, Myungjunnie?”  
  
“I just have a different image of my hands, I guess.” Myungjun swallowed thickly. “An image of…of magic and…powers that I know I shouldn’t be using-”  
  
“Your hands were what stopped me from dying. I guess I just have a romanticized idea of your hands from that.” Jinwoo watched an array of emotions pass across his boyfriend’s face; fear and relief and comfort and terror and love.  
  
“Jinwoo…”  
  
Jinwoo shushed him with a soft kiss, and when he pulled back, Myungjun seemed a lot more at ease. He bit his lip and buried his head into Jinwoo’s chest, breathing deeply for a second before muttering, “My hands aren’t that great. My lips are better.”  
  
“ _God_ , fine. Do you want me to gush about your lips?”  
  
“Sure. My lips are also the perfect size for-”  
  
“I’ll only gush about your lips if you stop talking so dirty.”  
  
Myungjun giggled, but he didn’t remove his head from Jinwoo’s chest. He lay there still, and Jinwoo thought maybe he had fallen asleep after a few minutes of silence, but then he whispered, “My hands aren’t that small.”  
  
They weren’t. But Myungjun’s hands seemed small in comparison to the large amount of power he possessed.  
  
“Whatever the case, they’re cute.”  
  
They were small and cute and powerful and Jinwoo’s heart was filled with adoration for Myungjun’s hands and Myungjun’s lips and Myungjun’s magical powers and _Myungjun_.   
  
“There are so many parts of me you could call cute, and you chose my hands?” Myungjun groaned into Jinwoo’s shirt. “Talk about my lips. Spin words of gold about my lips.”  
  
(They fell asleep complimenting each other. Jinwoo only woke up when the sun shook him and whispered, “Jinwoo, I need my morning kisses.” And when Jinwoo took too long to open his eyes, the sun’s small hands traced over his face with gentle movements, and Jinwoo giggled. Myungjun’s hands had so many purposes, but that was probably his favorite use of them.)

**Author's Note:**

> hmu with more drabble ideas or just comments or what have you [@vonseal](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com), but only if you got dollar bills.


End file.
